Lori Desrosiers

Lori Desrosiers (Poetry) | Westfield, MA

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Lori Desrosier is the author of Sometimes I Hear the Clock Speak (2016 Salmon Poetry, Ireland), The Philosopher’s Daughter (2013 Salmon), and two chapbooks, Inner Sky and typing with e.e. cummings, both from Glass Lyre Press. A third full-length book, Keeping Planes in the Air, is due out from Salmon in 2020. Her poems have appeared in New Millennium Review, Contemporary American Voices, Best Indie Lit New England, String Poet, Blue Fifth Review, Pirene’s Fountain, The New Verse News, The Mom Egg, and many other journals and anthologies. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She edits Naugatuck River Review, a journal of narrative poetry, and Wordpeace.co, an online journal dedicated to peace and justice. She has given many workshops and panels on craft and publishing, and teaches Poetry at the Lesley University MFA program.


Keeping Planes in the Air (Salmon Poetry, 2020). Poetry.

Sometimes I Hear the Clock Speak (Salmon Poetry, 2016). Poetry.
The Philosopher’s Daughter (Salmon Poetry, 2013). Poetry.


  •  typing with e.e. cummings (Glass Lyre Press, 2019).
  • Inner Sky (Glass Lyre Press, 2015). Poetry.

Blurbs, Press, & Reviews

Lori Desrosiers’ Sometimes I Hear the Clock Speak enfolds in an origami of memory the poet’s life and the lives of her family and others. As with any fine poetry, the poems mostly transcend clock-time, soaring to a Blakean cleansing of the “doors of perception.” In vignettes alchemized from everyday experiences, the poet gives us an “eternity in an hour” of music-laced memoir. Here is an immersion in the dance of a woman who shakes off the shackles of domestic oppression; here is a gentle dreamer who embraces the liberation of being a daring writer.
—Susan Deer Cloud, Author of Hunger Moon

Opening this new book by Lori Desrosiers you will find of memory and search, of second-thoughts and playful indecisions, poems that go back in time to retrieve music and mend heart. Indeed, the reader will find all kinds of music here: there is a violin that lacks music and there is a brother’s voice that speaks like father’s—but not when he sings. There is a reveille at 7.15am, and there is a young baby whose voice is known by her singing. And it is music that brings half-deaf father back from the dead. Page after page the reader will come to learn that it is memory–that beautiful, final chord, which reveals us to ourselves, and yet is unwritten by us.
—Ilya Kaminsky, Author of Dancing in Odessa

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